There is a hum in the wires. It's faint but if you close your eyes it’ll find you. It was there before the wires were strung, but in them it found a conduit. It's elemental, but not the way you may think. It’s not the wind, either. Those forces are altogether different to what sings… Continue reading The hum in the wires
Here are a couple watercolor sketches that I began on the weekend while in Fire Island, and finished last night. And an excerpt from a text I sent to a friend, regarding a particular mission while I was out on the island: Twice this day I've filled my pockets with soft sea-rounded stones for our… Continue reading Unicorns in the pool, and a search for sea-softened stones
Along windswept edges of town amid stern midcentury angles, a bright unsunny light filters and glances; limns the geometric emptinesses between things on a weekend in shoulder season on a slip of land off the coast of Long Island. The color of the wood sea-silvered— salt boxes beheaded, re-envisioned by exacting minds, rise out of… Continue reading An austerity of angles sprouting from wild grasses
There is a room full of young women lounging in or at the edges of inviting pools of water. The room has an otherworldly atmosphere, with dim, colored lighting and biomorphic curves in the walls and ceilings. It feels, looks like a grotto; like some ethereal rendering of a subterranean brothel. On low ledges all… Continue reading Elegant instruments, arrayed in bowls
One of the reasons I enjoy poetry is because it comprises all of my favorite ways of making. It’s creating images with words, yes; a kind of storytelling. But it’s about so much more than just the correct or precise words —more than denotation or connotation— it’s also about design. It’s about how the words interact… Continue reading The shapes created by the spaces between things
When I was young, probably in college, I’d occasionally hear a person talking about this or that luminary, describing them as a “Rhodes Scholar.” My lack of awareness at the time meant that I’d only ever heard the phrase, not seen it spelled out. I had no idea. In my adventurous young mind, I heard… Continue reading Philosophical pirates, intellectual outlaws
He was long ago sealed into to the wall— made part of the wall— with a spell. All the years since, visitors and passersby have presumed he's just another sculptural embellishment of the palazzo. His consciousness remains, though— eyes, frozen, he still sees; his ears still hear. Being a mute and immovable witness is a… Continue reading Deeds and misdeeds
My subconscious has been working on a thesis for me lately; broadcasting things which on the surface (flattened and simplified by my waking mind) appear disparate, but on closer inspection are stitched together by a continuous thread. Its thesis is about crafting sensible (or at least legible, recognizable) solutions, guides, codes to amorphous and unformed problems.… Continue reading Things bound with waxed sail thread and resin
WordPress Discover did me the honor of sharing one of my recent posts yesterday, for which I’m grateful. I'm happy to say Hi! and thanks for reading my work. It means a lot when my words or images connect with people. So, thank you again. As a number of you’ve just arrived via the portal… Continue reading To visitors who’ve recently discovered this place
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 